Demon in the Window
by hemospectrometer
Summary: Dave is human catnip to demons of all sorts and attracts them from miles around. John is one of those demons, but he's content to just watch Dave for now. Rating will definitely be bumped in later chapters. Dave's POV.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I was originally going to be publishing the entire story in one chapter, but since my draft was in ao3 it would have been automatically deleted soon so I had to post it there or else lose it. I decided that I might as well post it here too.**

Your name is Dave Strider and you have a demon to get rid of. Namely, the one perched just outside your window atop the windowsill with his stupid ugly mug pressed to the glass like the creepy fucker it is.

Had it been literally any other demon, you would have flipped a shit, grabbed your sword, and called Bro for backup, at which point he'd promptly join in on the shit flipping before storming in and slicing open the freak of nature that was about to break in and try to eat you alive.

Something about you is like catnip to certain otherworldly assholes, attracting them from miles around and generally making your already challenging life a whole hell of a lot harder- pun intended of course, being able to make a plethora of low quality puns are the least you deserve in compensation for having to deal with this sort of harassment on a weekly, sometimes even daily basis. You can hold your own against the little guys, gals, and whatever else the underworld upchucks into this plane of existence; you don't think half of them have any genders to speak of and you aren't about to pause and ask them their pronouns.

You didn't fight the humanoid ones yourself though. Never the human ones, those were the ones you needed Bro to take care of for you. If it didn't have spikes, horns, extra eyes, heads, limbs, tails, and fuck knows what else attached to it, it meant it was so grossly overpowered it didn't need any any special hardware save for the odd thing here and there.

This is one of those demons.

You're used to this particular demon though. It's more human than any you've seen before, the only hints to its true nature being it's greyish skin, unnaturally blue cat-like eyes in a shade best described as electric (they glow too- nothing quite like waking up at two am and seeing nothing but two glowing orbs just a few feet away from you) with black schlera, a plain old tail with nothing but a puffy little tuft of fur at the end, and the standard claws and sharp teeth. Oh, and it has horns and wings too, completely stereotypical, zero out of ten for creativity. The same could be said about its clothing, a plain grey tee shirt and jeans (if anything could stand wearing jeans in the dead of the Texan summer it was a literal demon from the firey pits of hell). Most demonics go nude and are hardly more than putrid lumps of flesh with far too many appendages and gaping mouths to count, making this one look practically sleek and streamlined in comparison, even if it doesn't actually look very human as it gently buts its head against the glass of the window, careful not to break or even crack it. It could have rammed right through it if it wanted, but it's always still careful not to for whatever reason.

It's an annoying pest, make no mistake about it, but the worst it's ever done was creep around your window and stare at you for hours, occasionally snagging a crow to messily devour. You've still always made sure to never open the window when you think he might be near. He only comes on the nights your Bro is out Dj-ing or out hunting down a demon that's wandered too close for comfort, so at least you aren't constantly paranoid he'll randomly show up and dismember you for the fun of it, just on nights like those.

You hadn't noticed him the night he'd first appeared, head cocked to one side and eyeing you like a cat would an injured bird. He was silent as per usual, and you only realized he was watching when you'd nearly knocked a jar off the shelf containing your dead things collection, just barely catching the carefully preserved animal in the nick of time. You'd glanced up for no reason you can currently recall, maybe he'd tapped on the glass, but you caught sight of him and the glass jar slipped from your fingers and onto the floor, shattering into at least a dozen shards and its soft cargo splattering in foul smelling smears.

Bro wasn't there and there was a likely very powerful demon staring you in the eye as it licked it's lips hungrily, balanced on the balls of its feet with one hand braced against the still-warm glass, its tail flicking back and forth. In all honesty, when you'd lunged for your sword you kept by your turntables, you hadn't thought you'd live to see the next few minutes, maybe you'd live to the next hour if it decided to toy with you first.

But, surprisingly, the only movement it had made was to get down on all fours with its finger and toenails digging into the brick beneath it so it wouldn't fall off. You'd stared it down for a good half hour, neither one of you moving an inch until the stalemate was broken by one of the dumbass crows landing in his hair and the demon nearly fell from the building trying to swat away the scavenger. It still managed to hang on despite his best efforts, resulting in a very disgruntled looking demon crouching on your windowsill with a crow fluffing up with pride at its hard won perch.

You'd given a brief snort of laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of the situation, though your amusement was quickly cut short when he'd suddenly snatched it up and threw it against the window with enough force to literally fucking splatter the window with bird. You'd seen some seriously nasty stuff, but jesus, the demon was fucking preening at this point, a smug little smirk across its (not so) ugly face.

Upon noticing your disgust, he had suddenly stiffened up and grabbed what remains of the crow so he could shove it in his mouth, swallowing it bones and all. He then proceeded to act like nothing had happened, settling down to clean his hands via tongue washing.

You didn't want to make the first move, not when it was almost certain death for you. Something told you that it would have been able to take down even Bro if it wanted, and you tend to be one to trust in your instincts.

He'd watched you for at least another fifteen minutes before you had to back out of the room to piss in the bathroom down the hall; you'd peed from the side of the toilet so that your back wasn't to the door in case it decided to try and sneak up on you.

When you returned, he hadn't made a single move to break in and you cautiously went about your everyday business, not wanting to provoke it somehow. Bro was out later than normal that night, and you'd left your phone at your friend's, Rose, house so you were left with anxiously waiting for him from on your bed, refusing to look at the demon as you fought to stay awake.

You must have fallen asleep at some point though, because the next thing you remember was waking up at about two in the afternoon with no sign the demon had ever been there. You'd had doubts about whether or not the events of the night before had actually happened or not, so, with your stunning intellect, you neglected to tell your Bro about the demon. He had enough on his hands as it was, no need to make things harder on him by getting him to hunt down a demon that may or may not exist.


	2. Chapter 2

Your days after what you personally like to call the First Sighting of the demon was fairly normal, save for the small fact that the event repeated itself each and every night when Bro was out after dark and far enough away that he wouldn't be able to return for at least another half hour if he went homebound at top speed from the moment the demon's toes touched the sill.

It took little under a month of this for you to grow used to the presence of that demon in your life- freezing panic giving way to fearful care in every movement, then fading to wary glances late at night. You know he- it -could kill you at any time if it so chose, but the most it ever does is rest its head against the cooling glass and mess with the local feathery assholes known as crows. Of course, not even a predatory demon could deter them from pursuing you just as doggedly as the monsters you attract. Your milkshake totally brings all the boys to the yard, provided said boys are either demons or crows. Sometimes ravens too.

It's after a hard few days of brutal insomnia (it came out of nowhere, you don't have the clinical variety, thank god) and staring mindlessly up at the ceiling or at the walls before turning over yet again that a sleep deprived and caffeine addled brain decided, 'Hey, you know what would be a great idea? Letting that demon in so you can finally figure out what it wants.'

So you clicked on the leg lamp you'd found just sitting on the side of the road (it was for the irony, you'll never admit you genuinely like A Christmas Story, no matter how hilarious) and ambled over to the window. You leaned towards it and pressed your hands over where the demon pushed his palms against the window, then rested your forehead in the same spot where he laid his, watching him. His pupils had dilated when you moved closer and there was an expression on his face you couldn't quite place as his nails dug into the glass and made little pits in it. You could easily lie and say they came from birds crashing into it, which they did regularly.

You pushed away from the window and the demon didn't even twitch until you made a shooing motion with both hands. It was as if a spell had been broken, he flinched away and withdrew his hands from the window like the glass had burned him before he dove off the windowsill and disappeared from view. His expression was one of hurt, head bowed low and eyed averted. You'd have said he looked like someone whose marriage proposal was just shot down by someone they'd been sure would say yes if it was a different situation.

The main thought running through your head at that moment: shit.

You threw open the window and leaned out while you yelled, "Hey, come back!"

You can safely say that was singlehandedly the stupidest, most idiotic and ill thought out thing you've ever done. It's also one of the few really dumb things you've done that didn't have any immediate repercussions of the super bad kind. You'd have considered the demon coming back as a super bad thing if not for the fact that you just screamed from the rooftops that you wanted that so it no longer really qualifies.

You waited a second or two for the demon to appear, and just when you're about to give up and close the window, you felt a light tap on the back of your neck and screamed. You flashsteped back into the relative safety of your room and stare as you saw the demon hop down from his place on the wall above the window. He must have swung around to hang above the window then snuck in while you were busy looking downward, the sneaky bastard. Your previous complacency was gone; while you'd gotten used to ignoring him hanging around, not once had he ever made any move to come in or attack you.

Then he was approaching you on all fours as you scrambled away from him and tripped over the cords littering your floor. You fell flat on your back as he stopped inches away from your feet and drew himself up to his full height. Had his horns not been gently curving backwards along his skull, they would likely have brushed the ceiling, his lean body just tipping over the six foot mark and your ceiling fairly low. The edges of his wings touched the floor and you noticed some things up close that you hadn't been able to see when you usually never ventured to the half of your room closest to the demon when he was there, like how his fingers were just a little too long for a human hand, and his irises too big for his eyes, which you had an excellent view of with the way he was bending down over you to the point you were almost afraid he was going to fall on top of you.

Instead, he just straightened back up then crouched down and watched you curiously with his head cocked to one side.

You had only sat up halfway before he's moved across the room and is burrowing into your blankets and settled down so that he's a roundish lump in your bed with just his tail sticking out.

You weren't sure what to make of all this, but you did know that a demon setting up camp in your room was not something you wanted and he had to vacate the premise asap. You had some faith that he wasn't going to kill and or eat you, so you try gentle persuasion first.

Sitting down on the bed next to him, it doesn't even occur to you that you could rid the earth of a powerful demon right there with one quick slice. "Hey there... whatever your name is, could you just, you know, get the hell out?" After a minute of no response other than the demon's tail flicking from side to side, you brushed a fingertip over the downy black fur puffing out from the end of it, not too many shades away from your own skin color. The back and forth movement ceased but nothing else happened so you continued to mess with the demon's tail, scooting closer and pulling it into your lap where you fiddled around with it in an effort to bother the demon. The soft fur felt like that of a rabbit, strangely enough, and you ended up just idly petting it while you looked towards the window. The demon shifted his weight beside you and withdrew its tail from your lap, making you stiffen when he wrapped his arms around you from behind and rested his chin your shoulder. You're ninety percent sure that the soft rumbling sound that came from his chest and made it vibrate slightly against your back was some form of weird purring.


	3. Chapter 3

You refuse to admit that you made a choked noise when the demon nipped at your ear, not really using his teeth. You felt him shift around again and suddenly he's lifting you up like you weighed nothing, despite the fact that you tried to grab onto the sheets and keep yourself from being... pulled into his lap?

He presses his face to the crook of your neck and inhales deeply, his purring changing tone slightly, more of a low croon than anything, then, without warning, ran his tongue over your skin. It's unpleasantly warm and slimy, as well as being reminiscent of a snake's tongue in shape, and you aren't ashamed to admit you yelped loudly and flailed. There was no way you were becoming an easy midnight snack.

In your panicked thrashing you somehow manage to elbow him in the stomach, backhand him in the face, and fall face-first onto the floor with a loud thud. There was a returning thump from under the floor, courtesy of your downstairs neighbors.

You wait for the demon to exact his revenge while laying on the floor in a state of mild shock. It doesn't come.

What does come is the demon peeking down over the edge of the bed at you, whining softly and his peculiarly shaped ears flicking backwards.

It takes a few breaths for you to recover your wits and pull yourself to your feet again. This time, the demon doesn't approach you. You run your hand over the skin on your neck where the demon's tongue had touched, sticky with its spit. Gross. You wipe it off onto your shirt with one hand. It wasn't tingling, or worse, burning, so it probably wasn't any kind of anesthesia or acid. However, you do realize that you are suddenly vaguely aroused for no discernible reason, so that puts aphrodisiac on the table. Fucking wonderful, it wants to seduce you.

The effects don't seem very strong at the moment, just a mild urge to test out that new dildo you recently ordered. It isn't even close to the rip-your-pants-off-and-screw-the-nearest-living-thing level of insanity that comes with succubi and the like. That stuff has caused countless deaths well into the thousands range; this might make an unfortunate boner crop up at the wrong time.

Since the demon has yet to kill you, you risk sitting back down on the bed; if he continues with his normal schedule, the demon will hopefully depart long before Bro gets home and all you'll have to do to survive the night is endure the unpleasantness of coexisting beside a moderately friendly demon. That shouldn't prove to be much of a challenge even if he continues to be just a little too friendly with you.

Luckily that doesn't seem to be an issue at the moment as he's hiding under the sheets again, or at least trying to. One of his horns have snagged the patterned fabric and make it impossible for the demon's head to be entirely covered. You lean down to untangle him, a half smile forming on your face despite yourself. You can just barely see the demon's lips pressed into a frown as he tugs at the offending sheet on his head, Cute.

"Hold on a second before you rip that thing to shreds. What'd it ever do to you, huh? I mean, it is attempting to become a permanent fixture on your head and all -I'll give you that- but that's no reason to try to murder it when you're the one who couldn't be bothered to watch where you put your horns. I'd have thought you'd know hoe to maneuver with those big ass keratin spikes on your noggin considering you've already managed to get a shirt on without tearing it. Or are those bone?" You wonder aloud. The demon either ignores your musings or has no idea what you're saying since he keeps pulling on the sheets until you move his hands away from his head and push the fabric back until it slips off the demon's horns, leaving behind only a small rip or two.

It's only when you look back down at him that you realize he's staring intently at you, which really is way more ordinary for the two of you than it should be. "Whatcha lookin' at?"

As seems to be the usual for him, he doesn't answer other than blinking at your words. Before you can figure out why he's looking at you like he just saw Jesus himself pop out from behind a curtain and shout hallelujah, he stiffens and launches himself off your bed, making it to and out of the window in three quick movements.

You take this to mean Bro's on his way home now and a quick glance at your clock confirms he should be home any minute.

The next night, you only hesitate a little before letting the demon in. He behaves more or less the same as the night before, curling up on your bed and watching you until it's time for him to leave. The demon avoids the blanket this time, much to your amusement.

He makes himself part of your routine before you even realize it, hell, you leave the window open for him some nights. After that, you just become more and more comfortable with each other, trusting even.

He always just lays around and acts more like a cat than a vicious monster, sometimes purring for some unknown reason.

You had been finishing the latest issue of SBaHJ when you suddenly had the now strange feeling of _not_ being observed, and turned away from the computer screen to make sure the demon hadn't left early without you noticing. The sight before you nearly made you choke on your own spit.

He was sleeping. Half curled up on your bed and tail hanging off side, despite the fact that you could skewer him on a sword before he would even wake up. You don't think you'd be able to do it even the idea appealed to you in the least. You get up from your chair and sit down beside the demon to run your fingers through his hair. He's seemed to like that in the past, but now he jolts awake and nearly takes a swat at you, lips pulling back into a snarl before he realises who you are.

You had been so surprised that you'd flashstepped to the other side of the room out of instinct alone. Good thing too, or else you might have needed stitches and facial reconstruction surgery- those claws don't look too pleasant to be on the receiving end of.

Unconsciously taking a step back when the demon gets off the bed, you watch as he stays on all fours like he has since the first time you let him in and approaches you as cautiously as you would a small and very scared animal. He makes an apologetic chittering noise and presses his head into your palm, his rough horns scraping against your skin. You sigh and get down on your knees to pull him into a hug, combing your fingers through his hair. You forgive him.

The demon was startled at first, unsure what to do, but he returns your embrace enthusiastically and wraps both wings around you as well as his arms. Something tells you demons don't hug each other often.

Weeks later, you've gotten sick and Bro can't be home for whatever reason for the entire goddamn day and he won't tell you anything except that he "needs to take care of this." What about taking care of you, huh?

No matter his reason, you slept most of the day, out cold until about an hour before sundown when you drift in and out of consciousness. The demon is there when you wake up, sitting stiffly at the foot of your bed with his back to you while he stares daggers at the closed and locked window. You didn't know he knew how to close it behind him, let alone lock it. It dawns on your fever addled mind that he was guarding you.

When you wake again, you're greeted by the demon untangling you from your own sheets. You laugh at the irony of the situation and cough after giving a laugh scratchier than sandpaper. The blue-eyed demon presses the back of one hand to your hot forehead while you slip back into a dreamless sleep.

You think your fever has broken now, at seven in the morning, and you feel slightly better, though you're still exhausted and sneezing. The demon hasn't left yet.

"Hey," you whisper, making him jolt despite how quiet you were. He reaches to feel your forehead again so you humor him, and if his pleased cooing is anything to go by, your temperature has gone down. You try and sit up but he firmly pushes you back down.

You try again and he clicks his annoyance. It's gotten to the point where his strange sounds are comforting rather than offputting, even the stranger ones he makes when he's getting emotional.

Huffing, you let the demon order you to stay in bed, pulling the blankets up higher on you and trying to wipe some snot off your nose with a damp washcloth, though you wave him off. He looks a little peeved but he lets it go.

You sniffle and he manages to wipe your nose before you have a chance to stop him. You don't need to be coddled, despite what this demon seems to think about your current condition. Responding appropriately, you stick your tongue out at him, to which he responds to by pressing the snot rag to it and giggling while you express your extreme disgust by attempting to wipe your tongue off on your hand then rubbing that hand on his cheek.

He just laughs at you and you almost stick your tongue back out before catching yourself.

You attempt to get up again, this time for some water, but the demon pushes you right back down. Groaning, you give an exaggerated cough then mime drinking from a glass. You've long since decided he neither spoke nor understood a word of English, but he's good at interpreting body language and gestures.

He nods and scurries off to the kitchen, from which you can hear the clicking of glass then the faucet being turned on. The demon returns with the glass while walking like a normal person would, taking you by surprise. You always somehow manage to forget how big he really is, and you think he might have actually grown in the few months you've known each other; this time he has to duck to avoid bumping his horns on the door frame.

He hands the glass over to you and you gulp down the lukewarm water while the demon glances around the room, or more specifically, the window and the door, and shifts his weight from foot to foot. "What?"

As expected, he doesn't answer. You did expect some sort of acknowledgement that you spoke though, even if he doesn't understand you. "Giving me the cold shoulder now? Harsh."

He ignores you, though this time it's to give you a light peck on the cheek before plopping back down on the bed beside you to watch your reaction (or so you presume).

A few seconds tick by and you stare him down, refusing to show any of the surprise you feel. With every moment that passes, the tension in the room grows stronger and stronger until you know that one of you will have to break it soon and it sure as shit won't be you.

He studies your face for a solid minute before your stare-down comes to a conclusion.

Naturally, you were right to assume that the demon would crack first, whining softly before averting his eyes and hopping down from the bed. You don't make any move to stop him from slinking over to the window where he exits.

You don't see him again for a week.


	4. Chapter 4

You missed him. It's funny, before, you never would have wanted to be with ten miles of a demon and would have killed any one of them that you could, now suddenly you're acting like a lovesick idiot pining over some crush. Not that you have a crush on a demon, that would be stupid.

Almost as stupid as a demon developing feelings for the younger brother of a notorious and highly experienced demon slayer. God he's such an idiot.

You wish he hadn't kissed you, then you wouldn't have had to actually think about the mess that is your emotions, especially those pertaining to a certain demon. You can think of a hundred reasons why you shouldn't trust him and a thousand of why you should. You wish he was back.

You aren't sure he will. Come back, that is. If he doesn't, you'll try to stop thinking about him; if the only reason he hung around was to seduce you like you originally thought, he isn't worth your time. Being friends would be nice though; now that you've put the possibility of a romantic relationship down the garbage disposal, it's unlikely he'll still want that now, so hopefully he just needs time to handle your apparent rejection. You hadn't thought of it as so at the time, just a knee jerk reaction to the triple-whammy of having to deal with that you were kissed with no warning whatsoever, that your demon may have more romantic feelings for you than platonic ones, and that you just might have wanted to kiss him back, none of which you were really prepared to deal with.

You look away from the stain on the ceiling you've been staring at for the past seven minutes and swing your legs over the side of your bed. Wearing nothing but your boxers, you push yourself up and run a hand through your greasy hair. When was the last time you showered?

As has become habit in the last six days, you glance at the window when you pass it on your way to the door. An empty dorito bag crunches under your foot. If he hadn't have kissed you- if you hadn't have rejected him, he'd be here right now and you'd be talking to yourself, comfortable with the demon's occasional answering clicks and chirps to which you would make a general noise of agreement and continue on with whatever you'd chosen to discuss that night.

You clean yourself up in the bathroom and return to your room to sit in a chair you'd dragged over to rest beside the window, your dirty underwear littering the floor and a towel around your waist.

Bro's not home, so your demon should be. You continue to wait for him.

A bit later, Bro slams the front door shut, something he rarely does, and appears in your room half a second later. His hair is unkempt under his hat, another abnormality, and his usually immaculate white polo shirt is smeared with both demon blood and his own- you don't see any wounds on him though.

You stand up and hold your towel on with one hand. "Holy shit, Bro, you look like you got hit by a truck then hit it back."

"Don't fucking swear," is his customary reply, but that's where normality ends in this conversation. "Got held up by a humanoid, ruined my damn shirt too. This is getting insane, Dave, the demon population here has been jumping around like nobodies business. First a steadily dropping number for two months- I actually thought I was making some headway here -then a hundred of 'em just crop up and they're just getting more and more dangerous. We're going to have to move again." He lets you process this in silence. Bro had promised you wouldn't have to move again after last time, but if he'd come across a _humanoid_ in his rounds -which weren't even close to the seedy underbelly of the demon world where they reside, just a few miles around your neighborhood- you can't see any good reason to stay longer than absolutely necessary. Not that you had to like it of course.

You don't fight him on this, you learned better ages ago and simply get to work on packing up. You haven't made many friends here anyway so it's not like you'll miss much (except for your demon).

The apartment is a mess, which buys you another week here, three at the most. You hope he comes back before you leave. Before he left that night, he hadn't missed a single time that he could come. Not one. Even when you were just about to go sleep, you'd let him in and he'd lay with you, his skin cool compared to the hot air that lingered despite all the fans you and Bro set up to stand in for the broken air conditioner. You had a theory that your demon could control his body temperature and often did so for your comfort.

You almost stay up again that night, wanting to watch for him like you did the night before, but chances are that you won't see him again. It hurts. In less than half a year, your demon has managed to become so important to you and in less than a week, he's all but disappeared from your life.

You've picked up the assorted piles of junk in your room and closet and either boxed it up or threw it away, so you call it a day, opening the window out of habit before getting in bed to screw around on your phone before you actually go to sleep.

Bro comes in to tell you he'll be out late again. You nod, not looking away from your phone screen; normally he'd bitch at you for not looking at him while he's talking to you, but lately he hasn't even done many smuppet traps or thrown Cal in your face more than once. It's been, what, a week since your last strife?

You don't get the chance to linger on those thoughts because you see movement out of the corner of your eye and look to see the silhouette of your demon in the window. Abandoning your phone, you rush over to him and hug him as tight as you can. You notice he's wearing a different shirt than normal, a tank top, and he doesn't hug you back as enthusiastically as he normally does, just barely holding you in his arms.

You pull back to say something, but the words evaporate from your mind the moment you get a better look at the demon. It's not him. If he'd been facing away from you you might have confused the two again, but this one's eyes are an impossible shade of emerald green instead of the electric blue they should be, and his hair is more brown than black, an easy mistake for your ill-adjusted eyes in the dark.

You're gripped by fear now, in the grip of an unfamiliar demon of unknown levels of power with unknown intent towards you. It hasn't made any move to harm you yet, so you don't resist when it raises a hand to your face to push up your sunglasses to rest on your hair. You close your eyes before he can see their color though, red eyes aren't exactly something you want to show a demon, or anybody really. Your demon has seen them, but only by accident; he'd snuck in while you were half asleep at one point and you hadn't had the sense to cover your eyes.

You hear a low growl and freeze up as you feel this new demon tap your eyelids, his claws not cutting you, but certainly sharper than your demon's. You swallow and open your eyes like he seems to want, hoping he doesn't gouge them out or something.

He leans in too close for your comfort and sniffs you (maybe it's a demon thing) before growling much more loudly and baring his teeth, though it's not at you, more of a general displeasure you think.

He doesn't attack you like you were waiting for, just lets go of you and sits down on the window and props his chin up with his hand, his elbow resting on one knee. The demon manages to look both faintly amused and pissed off at the same time.


	5. Chapter 5

One of his wings has a gash through it, still dripping black blood, and drying red blood coats his fingers. Maybe this was the demon that attacked your brother, but you think it's unlikely seeking how it isn't trying to eat you. Maybe the red blood is from an animal. You hope so.

**Warning: This chapter is nsfw (not safe for work), and contains nonconsentual use of aphrodisiacs. Definitely dubcon, even if it seems like there's enthusiastic consent.**

Not sure of what else to do, you curiously gesture towards his injured wing, making him frown and pull the appendage up against his back protectively. "Okay, okay, sorry, just wanted to know if I could help." Both his ears swivel towards you when you speak, twitching at the last word.

Hopping down from the window sill, he stands up (his horns touch the ceiling, he's a bit bigger than your demon so he has to hunch a little) and extends the damaged wing, presenting it to you. Can this one understand you, or at least a few words of what you're saying?

You step forward to examine the torn, or cut rather, skin that stretched to form the bat-like wing. Eying the demon who is currently glaring at you but still tolerating your presence, you slowly reach out to touch his wing, gently coaxing him into spreading it a little more. It's surprisingly warm, as well as far larger than expected. One wing is easily longer than the length of his body, leathery feeling and grey. He starts to growl and you aren't really paying much attention to him, just his wounds, so you end up simply petting at the undamaged part of his wing and shushing the demon while you consider whether or not he would allow you to stitch up his wing for him. Only one way to find out.

"I'm just going to go get some stuff to help me fix your wing, okay? The first aid kit is in the bathroom but you'd probably be all cooped up there and you might up nailing the doorframe with those suckers- the suckers being both your horns and your wings, and I'd assume either would hurt at least a little when banged against the walls ceiling," you say half under your breath, not wanting to spook the demon.

When you lower your hand and stop focusing solely on the cut, you can just barely make out a puttering rumble of a noise not unlike an engine trying to start. You discover the source when you turn away to retrieve the first-aid kit from the bathroom down the hall and find that the demon has been slowly edging closer to you while keeping his wing in same place so you wouldn't notice him moving. He's not quite purring, but he's almost there. You attempt to casually back away from him and hurry to grab the supplies for fixing his wing, pushing your shades back down over your eyes. You felt like you were naked without them.

He's still there when you return, just sitting on the bed and dripping his black blood on your sheets. Better the sheets than the floor, you figure, much easier to get the stains out of fabric or else throw them away if you couldn't get rid of the black. He observes you with interest as you sit beside him and open your industrial grade medical kit, all too familiar with where the what you needed was. You don't have a problem until the demon snarls at you when you so much as touch the wound. "Look, I'm just trying to help you here! /Help/." You draw out the word as if that would help convince him to let you touch him. "So please at least try to suck it up."

The green eyed demon seems to consider your plea, then pats his lap and gives a rattling, mangled sound that might resemble the word 'help' (more like heeckpl if you were honest), nodding. You probably looked more confused than anything, which is likely why instead of trying to explain himself, the demon grabs you and hauls you into his lap and positioned you so that you had no choice but to either straddle him or wrap your legs entirely around him. A flush creeping across your cheeks, you awkwardly straddle his slightly spread thighs and act as though this was completely normal protocol for tending to an injured person, not at all like something out of a porno with a sexy nurse and some invariably sexual issue for the patient.

Either way, you get to work on the demon's wing and are surprised to find that he doesn't seem to mind the pain at all, just so long as you remain in his lap. You're finishing up when you feel him drag his obscenely long tongue over your neck like your demon had the first night you let him in. You stiffen and your stitching stutters before you decide to ignore it and keep on going as if nothing had happened. Maybe it was just the demon way of saying thank you.

If this was the case, this demon was very, _very_ grateful, making sure not to miss a single spot on your neck. At some point, you realise the aphrodisiac in this demon's spit was far more effective than that of your own demon's, or maybe it was just the sheer quantity. But you try to ignore it. You're a Strider, you don't succumb to any demon, especially not because of some dumb old horny-ness, and so you try to finish.

Less than a minute later you barely manage to complete your handiwork and your skin feels like it's on fire, hot and prickling, a stark contrast to the previously comfortably cool air of the fan pointed at you that now feels as though it were biting arctic wind. You're shaking to the point that you can no longer hold the needle, so you drop it to the floor to avoid stabbing both yourself or the demon with it. You find yourself pressing yourself pressing up against the demon for warmth, watching you intently as you shiver and quake in his lap until you accidentally roll your hips into the demon's in an effort to somehow get closer. This was probably the demon's plan all along but you can't bring yourself to care in the least thanks to the way each movement of you against the demon sends a wonderful spike of warmth shooting up your spine- pleasant, not burning and achy like your skin -and the demon is kissing you now, his black snake-like tongue sweeping between your lips and over your own tongue. You feel like you're freezing to death and overheating all at once, and the only thing helping is the way the demon is grinding against you, his hands on your hips and controlling how you move.

You don't remember exactly when both your shirts were torn off and thrown aside, but now your heaving chest is slick with sweat and flush against the demon's as you moaned into his shoulder and he kisses over your neck where you can feel your own heartbeat racing. Next, you're flat on your back while the green eyed demon tugs off your pants and boxers. Your entire body is flushed and you love the way he looks you over, like he could just eat you up. He seems pleased, and you're glad you're up to his standards.

He discards his own pants and places a knee on either side of your chest, grinning to show off his snaggletooth fangs while he bends back down to get on all fours and kiss you, softly this time. His lips are slightly chapped. You look down and... is that a tentacle?

Glancing back up to your smiling new demon, then back at his freaky dick, you make a thoughtless decision and scoot down on the bed to inspect it up close and personal. Your demon makes a soft noise when you take it into your hand and ever so gently squeeze it, near the tapered tip. It's as black as his tongue and coated in something that vaguely reminds you of mucus. You pull your hand a few inches away from the squirming appendage and see the stuff is a matching black with a jade sheen to it, clinging to both your fingers and his dick in long strings, like when you order a pizza with extra cheese and try to separate a slice from the rest. The thing seems to have a mind of it's own, threading itself between your fingers and making you giggle. This is all so weird and surreal but you simply can't think of any reason to care. You even go so far as to run your tongue along the underside from thick base to tip, estimating his total length to end up at about ten inches. It's pretty intimidating actually, but you suppose it's rarely proportionate to the rest of his body size, if a bit on the large side.

You like the way your demon makes the softest of growling noises when you take it in your hands to pump and squeeze while you just about make out with the thing, sucking and lavishing your tongue over the sides. You know he's watching you and you want to put on a show for him, so you tilt your head back and smile at him then bring the tip of his cock to your lips and let a few inches push into your mouth, making damn sure your expression and sounds show how much you're loving this. A few seconds in, he pulls you off him and you whine, only to be cut off by a hard kiss.

He gets you to turn over without any resistance, one of your cheeks pushed roughly into the pillow and the awesome anime style shades that were previously pushed back into your hair slip off of you and fall to the floor, cracks appearing on the glass lenses. You barely have the chance to even think of being upset before the thoughts are driven from your mind by the sensation of the demon simultaneously pushing your legs apart and getting you to raise your ass up in the air for him to grind against, his nails digging into your hips.

You're loud, and it's a wonder that there haven't been any noise complaints from downstairs yet. Your eyes shift towards the window and it takes a couple seconds to really process that your demon, /your/ demon, the blue eyed one, is perched on the windowsill, frozen to the spot and looking absolutely shocked. You must be quite the sight under the other demon, naked and moaning unabashedly, hair disheveled, and your lips, chin, and hindquarters are either stained or smeared with that black stuff.

Suddenly, your demon's expression changes, and he hops into the room.


End file.
